


laugh until our ribs get tough

by ephemeralsky



Series: bruising the sun [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Don't copy to another site, Found Families, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 15:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralsky/pseuds/ephemeralsky
Summary: “I’m telling you guys, there’s definitely something between them,” Matt insists for the third time that morning.“Matt, if there was, I’d already been knew about it,” Nicky rationalizes, also for the third time that morning.“Bitch, please.” Kyle adjusts his wig, giving himself a once-over in the mirror. “You have a shitty gay-dar.”“And we don’t even know if Mr. Josten's gay,” Dan reminds them. “That bet still isn’t settled.”“Well, according to myexcellentgay-dar,” Nicky declares, “he’s definitely boning Mr. Moreau. I would know - I’ve seen them flirting with each other in French.”(or: Nicky yearns to heal and be loved, and realizes that maybe heishealing and loved)





	laugh until our ribs get tough

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel/spin-off to ‘A World Alone’ that centers around Nicky. This can be read as a stand-alone; you don’t need to have read AWA to enjoy this :D
> 
> Some background info in case you’re curious though: This is set in my teacher AU, where Andrew and Neil (and a few others like Jean, Laila, and Renee) are teachers and Nicky, Kevin, Matt, Dan, Robin, and Seth are high-schoolers. 
> 
> TWs: implied/referenced homophobia, references to conversion camp/therapy, just overall shittiness from Nicky’s parents. 
> 
> Title derived from Lorde’s ‘Ribs’

The counselors at the conversion camp told Nicky that nobody is ever going to love him if he doesn’t change himself. 

They told him that he was going to be shunned by society, and that he will die alone, carrying the burden of his family’s shame. 

They also told him that he was an abomination, but he can’t help but giggle a little when he recalls this last one; the use of the word always reminds him of Lilo and Stitch. 

The other bits, though - they ring in his ears and haunt his dreams sometimes, keeping him awake until the sun comes up and Andrew pounds on his bedroom door so he can get ready for school. 

It makes it all the more unreal - how he now has friends that accept him for who he is.

“I’m telling you guys, there’s definitely something between them,” Matt insists for the third time that morning.

“Matt, if there was, I’d already been knew about it,” Nicky rationalizes, also for the third time that morning.

“Bitch, please.” Kyle adjusts his wig, giving himself a once-over in the mirror. “You have a shitty gay-dar.”

“And didn’t you say that Mr. Josten comes along with you on Friday nights to get dinner? That’s totally a sign that there’s something between them!”

“And we don’t even know if he’s gay,” Dan reminds them, shrugging her tunic on. “That bet still isn’t settled.”

Nicky gasps, offended. “How can you guys not see that he bats for my team? The audacity of you people, honestly. Blatant homophobia.” 

“You’re only saying that because you want to believe that he and Mr. Moreau are dating.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, siding with his girlfriend like he usually does. “He could be bisexual. Or asexual, for all we know.”

Nicky bites back the response of _you’re either gay or straight_ _\- pick a side_ bloating like carcass at the tip of his tongue. He’s been trying to shave off the habit of dismissing other sexualities ever since Kevin came out as bisexual to him, face screwed up as he haltingly explains how he feels. 

Nicky will never forget how touched he felt in that moment, when Kevin said that he’s the first person he told. 

“Well, according to my _excellent_ gay-dar,” Nicky declares, “he’s definitely boning Mr. Moreau. I would know - I’ve seen them flirting with each other in French.”

“Oh, worm?” Kyle says. 

With her hands on her hips, Dan raises an eyebrow at Nicky. “How do you know they’re flirting? You don’t even speak French.”

“Also,” Liz chimes in, flipping through her script on the couch, “Mr. Josten isn’t gay because I, for one, has seen him flirt with Ms. Dermott.”

Kyle spins towards her. “No way!” 

“Yes way. And I’ve seen him get all cozy with Ms. Reynolds, too, during the pumpkin picnic.”

“Oh, I saw that too,” Tal says, eyes screwed shut as Matt helps him apply some eyeliner. “I mean, I saw my mom getting cozy with him too, which was super weird, but I definitely think that he’s straight.”

Dan rolls her eyes. “You guys are so blind. Coach Reynolds -”

“_Volunteer_ Coach Reynolds,” Nicky corrects her, just to be a butthurt jerk.

“- has been with the team since my freshman year and I know for sure that she’s seeing Ms. Walker.”

“This again? Y’all are delusional.”

“No, Nicky, _you’re_ delusional.”

“Yeah, and you’re also bitter because you lost that bet about Ms. Walker’s sexuality and had to give Beth two huge bags of Doritos,” Liz says.

“Beth’s in the nature club with Ms. Walker! She has insider knowledge, which makes it totally unfair.”

“Nicky,” Dan says in a serious voice, looking at him in the eyes, “Ms. Walker dyes her hair in pastel rainbow colors every summer.”

“And do you know what’s in summer?” Matt prompts. Jesus, he’s so whipped. 

“Pride month,” Dan answers. 

“We all been knew that she’s a lesbian,” Frankie summarizes, kicking her feet up on the vanity and checking her make-up on her compact mirror. There’s a perfectly good mirror right in front of her, geez. These drama club kids are so extra, just like Nicky himself.

“And definitely not dating Mr. Minyard,” Kyle adds, fluffing up his wig. “Does this wig make my face look wider?”

“They hang out together every Saturday!” Nicky argues.

“Yeah, so do we. That’s what friends do.”

“He lets her drive his car! He never lets anybody do that!”

“No, Kyle, that wig makes the color of your eyes pop.” 

“Thanks, boo.”

“That was one time, wasn’t it?” Darren points out as soon as he breezes into the green room. “When she had that family emergency last semester.”

“Dude,” Kyle says, “so glad you could make it.”

“My parents forgot that I had rehearsals today, but I called an Uber, so all’s good.”

“You could’ve just called one of us,” Liz says, frowning.

“Eh, maybe next time. In conclusion, all of you are wrong, but Nicky is especially wrong.”

“Wow, the homophobia is rampant today.”

“You’re wrong because you still think your cousin is dating Ms. Walker even though she’s clearly dating Ms. Reynolds.”

“Thank you!” Dan says, lifting her hand up for a fist-bump, which Darren returns. 

“Mr. Josten, on the other hand, is clearly into Ms. Dermott.”

“I take back my fist-bump. Darren, give me back that fist-bump. Fist-bump revoked.”

Robin rushes into the dressing room, red-faced with exertion. “Has anyone seen Fred’s corset? We’ve been looking for it since lunch.”

“He probably left it in his locker,” Frankie drawls, “along with the rest of the garbage he keeps in there.”

“Also, Liz, Mr. Josten wants to see you. He’s with the stage crew, trying to fix the tree.”

“That goddamn tree keeps tipping over,” Liz mutters under her breath, exiting the room. 

Before she leaves, Robin bites her lip and tells them, “For what it’s worth, I think that Mr. Minyard isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.”

They all exchange glances, silently accepting the insider’s knowledge for what it is. Aside from Nicky and Robin, none of them ever really interact with Andrew, after all, not even when they’re supposed to consult him for their term papers. Whatever information they can glean is precious and vital to their betting pools. 

“I guess the pot’s still on hold,” Kyle mumbles. 

“Guys,” Matt whines, exasperated, “are we really just going to ignore the fact that I saw Mr. Minyard and Mr. Josten sleeping together during tech rehearsal night?”

*

“When I get married -” Nicky starts.

“Not this again.”

“- I want this song to play at my wedding.”

“Last week,” Kevin says, forehead crumpled, “you said that you wanted ‘All of Me’ to play at your wedding.”

“Yeah, but that was last week. This week I’m all about ‘Young and Beautiful’.”

“And the week before, I remember you specifically telling me that you wanted ‘Crazy in Love’ or you’ll die.”

“Yeah, but who doesn’t want a Beyonce song playing at their wedding?”

“This is exhausting.”

Nicky loops his arm around Kevin’s, sighing. “Love is exhausting.”

“Nicky, you’re single.”

Nicky places a hand over his heart, mouth open in shock. “Rude! I don’t need to be reminded of that every day, Kevin.”

“You make it easy when you talk about love everyday.”

“That’s because love is important,” Nicky says, aiming for a wise, elderly tone. “Speaking of - have you talked to Thea ever since homecoming?”

Kevin’s hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket, but Nicky can see them moving restlessly. “We - we talk. Every day.”

“Honey, slipping notes into each other’s locker doesn’t count.”

“It does,” Kevin argues, lips flattened. 

“Fine, fine,” Nicky concedes, dropping his head on Kevin’s shoulder. “My baby, all grown up and courting a senior honors student.”

“I am not your baby.”

“If I had wider hips, I swear I could’ve given birth to you myself.”

“That is physically impossible.”

Nicky only laughs. When all that’s left of his laughter is its echo, he says, “Do you really think it’s true? What they say about love and marriage?”

“What do you mean?” Kevin asks.

“Like in the movies, how two people who are meant to be together just know that they are, or how some people fall in love at first sight. I mean, how do you even know it’s different than a stupid crush?”

Kevin is quiet for a few minutes, giving serious weight to Nicky’s question. Nicky repeats the song, giving Kevin time. 

“I am not sure,” he says, “if I can give you a definitive answer. I don’t have a lot of experience in this domain.” Another lapse of silence. “But I have read something about it before, how sometimes you won’t fall in love at first sight, but you somehow know that you will come to love that person eventually.”

Nicky tips his head back to look at the cloudy sky. 

“Huh,” he says. He wonders if that’s true. He can be a hopeless romantic sometimes, but he also knows that nothing is ever that easy. 

Lana’s voice fades away just as Andrew steps out of the main building with Mr. Josten beside him. Nicky plucks out the earbuds from his and Kevin’s ears, winding the cord around his phone. 

They’re sitting on the steps in front of the library, and Mr. Josten notices them first, raising his hand in a small wave.

Nicky stands up, slinging his bag up his shoulders. “Are you good by yourself?”

“I am not a child,” Kevin asserts. He peers down at his phone, then mumbles, “Dad will be out in a couple of minutes, so I’m fine.”

Nicky smiles at him. “Alrighty, then. See you after Thanksgiving, Kevin.”

“Don’t forget your clarinet practice regime. Just because we have this week off doesn’t mean you can slack off.” 

He really does look like Principal Wymack, with his russet brown skin and the stern lines that pinch his black eyebrows together when he frowns. 

“And don’t eat too much turkey,” Nicky returns, flashing him the peace sign as he walks up towards Andrew’s car.

Mr. Josten is saying something to Andrew, too low for Nicky to hear. 

Matt is definitely tripping; there’s no way there’s something going on between his cousin and Mr. Josten. If Andrew and Ms. Walker meeting up every weekend apparently doesn’t mean anything, then him and Mr. Josten getting a meal together doesn’t mean anything either, especially when Nicky and Kevin are included in those dinners. 

“Hi, hi,” he greets when he’s close. 

“Hey,” Mr. Josten says, lips flicking upward at the corner. He really is cute - it’s no wonder that half the school is infatuated with him, Nicky included. 

“Excited for the long weekend, Mr. Josten?”

“You bet.”

“Will you be visiting your family?” 

Nicky winces as soon as the words leave his mouth; he should know better by now, that asking about people’s family is a bit of a touchy subject for the people at the school. He should know better, from having seen his friends’ shuttered expressions, their brittle laughter, their forced nonchalance. 

He should know better, because when people ask him about his parents, his throat closes up and his eyes burn, his lips stinging from the smile he plasters across his face. 

Mr. Josten doesn’t seem to take offense at all though, smiling his dreamy half-smile. “Don’t think so.”

“Oh.” Nicky rocks on the balls of his feet, eyes downcast. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Mr. Josten says. “You must be really happy - I heard that your other cousin will be coming to visit.”

Nicky’s mood rocket-launches itself to the moon. “Yeah! Yeah, he is! I haven’t seen him in ages, so I’m really happy that he can make it. We can finally -”

A quick glance at Andrew’s impassive face has him faltering. 

“So, yeah, I’m glad, but like, glad in a normal, healthy amount. It’s just Thanksgiving, you know? Not a big deal. The pilgrims were assholes, anyway.”

“Right,” Mr. Josten says, eyes sliding from Nicky to Andrew, then back to Nicky again. “Well, I’ll let you two go on your way, then. Lots of preparation to be made, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Nicky says weakly, “we have to do some shopping after this. I’ll see you after the break, Mr. Josten.” 

Mr. Josten hums. “Maybe I’ll see you before then.”

“What does that -”

His teacher waves goodbye, sauntering towards the bicycle shed. Andrew stares after him before he unlocks the car.

On the way to the supermarket, Nicky regales Andrew with the events of the day, his spirits slowly rebuilding their way up. 

It unnerved him, at first, to talk and talk and talk and not have Andrew say anything in return. It felt like conversing with a wall, but one day - when he had complained about how Seth had called him a slur again when they had passed each other in the hallway - Andrew had interjected with a simple, “You should stab him.”

Nicky had blinked, shocked into silence. 

Andrew had kept his eyes on the road and said, “This is the second time it has happened. A knife to the gut should teach him a lesson.”

“I… don’t think I’m good with knives.”

Andrew had remained quiet after that, but it had made Nicky realize that Andrew is always listening, and that his sense of humor is… very macabre. One other thing he’s noticed about Andrew is that he’s considerate. Not necessarily kind, because he can be pretty mean, but Nicky hasn’t seen him smoke ever since he moved in, and that’s - that’s one of the most considerate things anyone has ever done for him. 

There’s also the fact that he took Nicky in when his parents kicked him out. 

There are a lot of things that he doesn’t know about Andrew, like why his and Aaron’s relationship had turned sour after Aunt Tilda’s death, deteriorating even further after they graduated college, or why he had ever even become Nicky’s legal guardian. 

Nicky’s known Aaron all his life, and he’s known Andrew ever since he was four, when Andrew came to live with Aunt Tilda after years of being in foster care. He’s heard of all the stories, of course. The fights he got into, the people he hurt, the time served in juvie - Nicky’s father liked to use them as cautionary tales, and in his household, what his father says is absolute.

But Nicky has lived with Andrew for two years now, and it’s enough time for him to realize that his father is wrong. 

His father is wrong about a lot of things. 

Nicky isn’t scared of Andrew per se, but he does get jittery around him sometimes. It’s just - it’s just that he’s stoic and opaque, and that itself makes him formidable. Nicky wears his heart on his sleeve, lets it bleed out for everyone to see, and he yearns, yearns, _yearns_. He wishes he could take a pointer or two from his cousin and learn to stop caring and wanting so much.

He spends two hours scuttling around Safeway because Andrew can’t be bothered to help him browse around for the food that they actually need. By the time they get home, he is absolutely pooped. 

Andrew heats up some ravioli for dinner, and Nicky natters away, picking up where he left off in the car. It’s easier to ramble on and on than to think about the last time he has heard from his mother. 

*

After sending Aaron off at the airport, Andrew drives Nicky to Sweetie’s for his Saturday shift. Thanksgiving had gone well. In fact, it had gone so much better than Nicky could have ever hoped for. 

He didn’t need to tip-toe through a minefield because Aaron and Andrew had actually been civil with each other, and then he got to spend some time with Aaron at the mall - where he got a killer pair of shoes at a forty percent discount - and he had scored some one-on-one tutoring time with Mr. Josten! He didn’t even know he was coming! 

After he squealed about it in the group chat, his phone exploded with his friends’ reactions. His favorites were the outraged _he’s good at calc too wtf_, the timeless _god i wish that was me_, and the ever eloquent _!!!!!!_. 

Irfan clocks in about the same time that Nicky does, which catapults him into the land of pure unadulterated happiness. 

See, Irfan is the first, full-fledged crush Nicky has had ever since - well, ever since he got back from the therapy program two and a half years ago. Irfan is a senior at Norton High, competes in javelin throws, and rides his dad’s old vespa. He has beefy arms, olive brown skin, and emerald green eyes. 

Nicky likes him a lot, and he refuses to be ashamed of it. 

He blows his bangs out of his eyes and works up his nerve. “Hi, Irfan.” 

Irfan is dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a henley shirt. He sheds off his jacket and pulls on his apron, darting Nicky a smile. Nicky fucking melts.

“Hey, Nicky. Had a good Thanksgiving?”

“A fantastic one. Lots of thanks to give, you know?”

“Glad to hear it.” 

“Hemmick! Hemzawi! The boss wants to see you.”

Their co-worker’s interruption and the meeting with their curmudgeon of a manager don’t kill Nicky’s exuberant mood in the least. Even the rude group of middle-aged women at table number seven couldn’t touch him.

It only comes tumbling down at the end of his shift, when he manages to steal another private moment with Irfan.

“Do you want to catch a movie next week?”

Irfan stares at him, then quickly looks away. “I don’t think I can. Exams are coming up.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Nicky fixates his gaze onto the pavement, cheeks burning in embarrassment at the soft rejection. Last time, when he had asked him to homecoming, he had said something along the same lines. 

“Nicky,” Irfan says. He clears his throat, stepping closer, voice lowered like he’s afraid someone will overhear. “Nicky, listen. My - my parents - they don’t know that I’m - well, they don’t know. My sister knows, but even that was a big step for me. I’m just not ready to be out. I really like you, but I just - don’t want to take the risk. I’m really sorry.”

Nicky wishes the ground could tear its mouth open and swallow him whole. He grins, eyes prickling. “No, no, don’t be! Gosh, Irfan, I totally understand what you mean, so no worries! You don’t have to apologize.”

“We can still be friends,” Irfan suggests, voice upturned at the end like he’s hopeful. 

“Of course,” Nicky says through the lump in his throat. “Of course we can.”

The Maserati skates up the curb. Nicky almost trips in his scramble to get to the passenger side door, barely squeaking out a goodbye to Irfan. 

He doesn’t realize he’s been quiet until Andrew, in his usual inflectionless voice, asks, “How was work.”

It takes him a while to process the question. “Oh, it was good! It was good, yeah. This nice lady gave me a twenty dollar tip even though she only ordered a cup of coffee. And then, um, there were lots of people today, but it wasn’t terrible at all.” He looks out the window, wishing he could stop feeling like his chest is being stomped on. “Everything’s just… really peachy.”

Andrew hums. Nicky doesn’t talk again until they get home, telling Andrew that he’ll be taking a nap before dinner. 

He puts on his earphones, lays down on his bed, stares up at the ceiling. Brendon sings to him about building a house on memories as he scrolls down his Twitter feed. He exits the app after a couple of likes and retweets, then opens up Instagram. He doesn’t spend a lot of time there, clicking the home button after seeing a picture that Dan posted where she, Kevin, and Principal Wymack are squished together on the couch, eating leftovers from their Thanksgiving dinner. It’s captioned as _tfw u and ur fam don’t care about thanksgiving but u love turkey. happy turkey day!!_

He stares at his ceiling some more before he pulls up his call log and taps Kevin’s name. 

He picks up after four rings like he always does, because he likes things to be in fours. 

“Hello,” he says, succinct.

“Hey. Hey, Kevin.” Nicky rubs his eyes. “Can you - can you tell me about that new book you’ve been reading? The one about Ginger Khan?”

“Genghis Khan,” Kevin corrects. There is a beat of silence. “I can, but why are you suddenly asking me to?”

“I’m just - really interested in knowing about him.”

Another pulse of silence. Nicky can hear Kevin’s suspicion from over the line, but in the end, he says, “Okay,” and starts talking.

Nicky listens to the convoluted historical facts. It isn’t until Kevin lets out an alarmed, “Nicky?” that he realizes he’s crying.

“Are you crying?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Nicky scrubs his eyes, but the tears won’t stop. Rolling onto his side, he curls up. A sob wracks through him, and - Jesus, why is he crying? Kevin is going to freak out.

“Do you - want me to come over? I can ask Dan to drive me there.”

Nicky shakes his head, realizes that Kevin can’t see him, and chokes out a, “No. But - can you just stay on the line?”

“Yes,” Kevin says, trying to sound like his usual firm self despite the uncertainty plaguing his voice, “yes, of course.”

The truth is, Nicky knows why he’s crying. 

His sadness is an insidious thing that has grown bigger and bigger even though his life has been getting better and better. His mom and dad don’t want him, and it’s supposed to be an old wound, stitched up and closed. He’s supposed to have healed, surrounded by his friends and Andrew, but there is a part of him that still aches. His parents never ask how he’s been, they never show up to his recitals and plays, and they will never accept him for who he is. He hates that despite all this, he still misses them.

The truth is, Nicky is heartbroken. 

He didn’t have a date for homecoming, and he probably won’t have a date for his senior prom. It’s such a stupid thing, but what if all those people were right? What if nobody will ever love him for who he is? He has tried to please his parents by changing, but his efforts hadn’t been enough for them. He feels as if he will never be enough for anyone or anything.

He doesn’t want to just eat and sleep, and he doesn’t want to just laugh and cry. He wants to want and be wanted in return, and he wants to need and be needed in return. He has so much love to give, but he feels that there isn’t anyone out there who is willing to give him the same amount of love. 

“Kevin,” he gasps out between bouts of hiccuping and sobbing, “what if I’ll be alone until I die? God, I don’t even know if I can find somebody to go to prom with me, let alone marry me!”

Saying it out loud makes him wail even harder. 

“I don’t think I can marry you, because that is a huge leap to make considering our circumstances, but I can be your date next year if you want. So just - please, stop crying.” 

The offer to be his date somehow startles Nicky into laughing, a wet sound that doesn’t sound like him at all. It sends him into a coughing frenzy next, and Kevin sounds even more frazzled than he already does.

“Nicky, are you having an asthma attack? Do you have your inhaler with you? _Nicky_.”

“No,” Nicky says after the fit subsides, his voice scratchy and thin. “No, I’m okay.”

“You do not sound okay.”

Nicky feels an immense love for Kevin right then. Kevin, who is disciplined and anxious and awkward but who is always trying his goddamn best. Nicky loves him so much. And he loves his cousins and his friends, and he knows that they love him too, in their own ways. 

“I’ll be okay soon. You know me - I’m never miserable for long. Sadness doesn’t look good on me.”

He can practically feel the energy of Kevin’s massive frown radiating down the line. 

“Gosh, Kevin, skeptical much? I can feel it from all the way here.”

Kevin huffs. 

“Really, though -” Nicky alternates between picking at his bed linen and squeezing his pillow “- I’ll be alright. I just have a whole lot of emotions right now.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Wow, okay, no need for the sass, mister.”

“I am going to hang up now.”

Nicky feels his lips pulling into a smile. “‘Kay. See you at school.”

Nicky tosses his phone onto the mattress after he hears the beep. He sniffles; his eyes are going to be all puffy and red later, but it’s not like it’s the first time he’s been sucker-punched by the misery train. He’ll get over it. Eventually. Maybe. 

There is a knock on his door. He sits up, wiping his face with his sleeve. Clearing his throat, he calls out, “Yeah?”

“Dinner,” is all Andrew says from the other side.

“Okay, be right out!” 

Nicky peels himself off the bed and putters out to the bathroom to wash his face. When he comes out to the kitchen, Andrew is already seated at the dining table, a book propped up in one hand, his glasses perched on his nose. 

It’s rare to see him wear his reading glasses. Nicky once asked him about it and got glared at for almost a full minute. 

Nicky drops into the chair across him, fiddling with his fork and pushing his food around. 

“No appetite?” Andrew asks, voice disinterested.

Jolting to his senses, Nicky quickly says, “No! Not at all. I have a ton of appetite. I have all the appetite in the world.”

He starts eating, thinking about how when he was being picky with his food, his dad would remind him - with an air of great superiority and disapproval - that he should be grateful to have food on the table, unlike the millions of starving children in the African continent.

He bites back a scoff. A part of him is grateful that he doesn’t have to live with someone as condescending as his dad anymore.

Andrew closes his book and removes his glasses, placing them on the side. “When is you next recital,” he asks before he begins eating. If he notices Nicky’s swollen eyes, he’s not showing it.

“Uh, not for a while, I think. Maybe after New Year’s.”

A silence follows. Nicky glances down at his plate, then back up at Andrew, then down at the table. 

“Extra tickets,” Andrew finally says. “Can you acquire them.”

Nicky opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Um, yeah. There’s usually a big chunk of unsold tickets.” 

Andrew nods, eating as normal. Nicky stares at him. “Uh, Andrew?”

Andrew grunts.

“Why do you need them?”

This time, Andrew pauses. He rolls his jaw and says, “Aaron wants to attend. He plans on bringing his wife, if the recital is after her due date.”

Nicky’s eyes go wide. “What? That’s great! He didn’t tell me anything about this!”

Andrew slides him an irritated glance. Nicky tries to contain his smile by biting into his bottom lip, but it feels impossible to contain that much happiness inside. He feels he could explode with it. 

“I’m gonna pay more attention during practice,” he decides, grinning even as he chews his dinner.

“Are you saying that you have not been paying attention all this while?”

“Wha -” Nicky makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course I’ve been paying attention, what are you talking about! Really, Andrew, I’m hurt that you think so lowly of me.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Nicky flaps a hand around. “Have I told you about what Kevin did at the last practice?”

“I think that you will still tell me all about it even if you have.”

Nicky laughs. There is a tingling at the back of his eyes, as if he is about to cry. He isn’t sure if they would be tears of happiness or sadness, but he finds that he doesn’t mind them either way. 

* 

“Nicky.”

Nicky wheels around at the sound of his name and sees Mr. Josten near the bulletin board. 

“Mr. Josten!” He bounds up to him, remembering to lower his voice a little when he continues, “Thanks for looking out for Andrew the other day. I know he has bad days sometimes, but I never know what to do. I’m so glad you two are such good friends!”

The corner of Mr. Josten’s lips twitches like he finds something amusing. He beckons Nicky to follow him to a more secluded part of the corridor, under a staircase.

“I have something for you,” he says, handing Nicky a folded piece of paper. 

It’s a flyer to promote the student exchange program. As Nicky’s brain processes this, Mr. Josten explains, “The program partners with schools in France, Germany, Spain, Japan, et. cetera. I’m putting one up in class but I have an extra copy. I thought that you might be interested in it.”

Nicky thinks that it’s a wonderful idea. He’s always wanted to go abroad; it doesn’t have to be far, and it doesn’t have to be more than once. He just wants to see what it’s like, a life outside this land, across the sea. Before moving here to live with Andrew, he’d never been outside of South Carolina. Heck, he’d barely ever left Columbia. 

The piece of paper in his hands feels like a light at the end of a dark, long tunnel. He smiles, a hesitant thing that precariously hangs off his lips with shaky fingers. 

“You could also be eligible for financial aid if you get accepted,” Mr. Josten adds. “If you go to the information session Ms. Altherr is holding next week, you can find out more on how to do that.”

Nicky takes a deep, stuttering breath. “You really think I could be accepted for this?”

Mr. Josten graces him with a half-smile. “Well, your German is getting pretty good.”

“That’s because you’re a kickass teacher!”

Mr. Josten’s smile diminishes, but his eyes soften, like a perfect blue sky with fluffy white clouds. 

“Maybe.” He waves this away, his smile returning. “So? What do you think?”

“I think I’ll try and apply for it. My GPA isn’t too bad either, so I think I have a -” he stops, hands clenching and crumpling the flyer. Quietly, he says, “Andrew would never let me go, though.”

Another thing he knows about Andrew: he’s extremely protective. Nicky is touched by this, but he is also a teenager. He feels caged in sometimes, from how Andrew doesn’t let him go far without any supervision.

Mr. Josten takes the flyer from him, smoothing out the creases before giving it back. 

“Don’t worry. He will.”

Nicky feels himself frowning, lips tugged downwards as he regards his teacher. He feels like there’s a missing piece to a puzzle he didn’t even know he was trying to complete. 

“How do you know that?”

The smile on Mr. Josten’s lips widens, sharp and joyful, an impossible combination. 

“I can be quite persuasive.”

Nicky doesn’t want to get his hopes up too high, because he knows what Andrew is like. But he also remembers that this is the man who got Andrew to eat proper food for dinner at Cheesecake Factory just by asking. 

“Okay,” Nicky exhales. “Okay. That sounds promising. I mean, we don’t know if I can even get accepted for the program but just having this chance is - it’s pretty cool.”

Mr. Josten raises a hand, hovering it near Nicky like he’s unsure. Then he gives Nicky a brisk pat on the shoulder. 

“I wish you all the best, Nicky.”

*

Stuttgart Hauptbahnhof is going to make Nicky cry. 

He had braved through the airport and the train system, somehow managing to buy the correct ticket and get off at the correct station - but _shit_, how big can this train station be?

He had promised himself not to bawl in the face of adversity, but getting lost in the midst of a bustling crowd in a foreign country is threatening that resolve. 

He gives a sharp shake of the head. _I can do this_, he thinks. He is going to ogle lots of European boys, perfect his German, eat his fair share of currywurst and Leber Käse, and have an amazing four months here.

Determined to make sure his goals will come into fruition, Nicky checks the map he snatched from the information desk. His host parents emailed him the day before his flight to say that they are sending their son to pick him up from the airport. Nicky, being polite and an idiot, told them that they don’t have to go out of their way to do that. He can get to the train station and probably to their house on his own, he told them in his correspondence, so don’t worry about it. 

They’re probably within their rights to worry. 

“I just came from that platform,” he mumbles, “so it means I’m right here.” He looks up at his surroundings, confirming that yes, there is a Starbucks right in front of him. He goes back to burying his nose in the map, wondering how hard it’ll be to navigate his way to the city with his luggage. 

“Nicholas?”

Nicky almost leaps off the ground, whipping his head up. 

“Nicky, _ja_?”

A boy - maybe a year or two older than him - is looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, but there is a smile playing on his lips. He has dark blond hair, his bangs flopping into his light green eyes. His build suggests that he might be an athlete, but the way his shoulders are a little hunched makes it look like he is unused to his own height. 

“Yeah,” Nicky replies in German, a little breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m Nicholas. Um, Nicky, yeah.” 

“Great!” The boy’s smile broadens. “I thought I had the wrong person, but I don’t think I can forget a face like yours.”

Nicky blinks a few times, mouth gaping.

“No, sorry, I meant that I saw your photo once. My parents had the packet with all your info and there was a photo of you and I sort of peeked at it and wow, I’m talking so much right now, huh?” He laughs timidly, rubbing his neck. “Sorry, I get anxious sometimes, when I’m meeting new people.”

“Oh, no, I totally get that, it’s all good.” Nicky swallows, suddenly thirsty. “Um, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Geez, how could I not introduce myself? See what I mean about being anxious with new people?” The boy huffs, clearing his throat. “I’m Erik Klose. Since my parents are your host parents, I guess that makes me your… host brother?” 

Nicky snorts, then claps a hand over his mouth at the unattractive sound. Erik’s eyebrows jump, but his lips are still caught around a smile and there’s a tinge of pink to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. 

Abruptly nervous, Nicky looks around, gaze fluttering about as he tries not to think about how cute Erik is. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to share a roof with him for the next few months and function like a normal human being. 

“How did you find me?” he asks, keen on filling the space between them with whatever words he can find. 

Erik clears his throat again, glancing down at his shoes. “My mom told me to pick you up. You gave us your itenary, so…”

“I’m sorry -” Nicky wrings his hands - “I didn’t mean to trouble your family with this.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be sorry. It’s no trouble at all.” Erik flashes him another smile, this one a little shy. “I’m glad to finally meet you,” he says in English, holding out a hand.

Something in Nicky freezes, arrested into place, then melts and flows like the natural course of a river. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he says quietly, calmer than he has ever felt before. 

He clasps Erik’s palm. His hand is big and calloused and warm, and Nicky has a vivid image of holding onto it and never letting go.

He lets go.

“I’ll get your bags for you,” Erik says, grabbing both of Nicky’s suitcases and wheeling them towards himself. 

“_Danke_.” 

They traverse through the thicket of commuters, heading towards the exits. 

“Is it alright if I talk in English with you sometimes?” Erik asks with a self-conscious smile. “My English isn’t very good, so I want to practice it.”

“It’s more than alright to do that,” Nicky responds in English, grinning. “As long as you promise to not make fun of me whenever I accidentally butcher your language.”

“I will never make fun of you - cross my chest,” Erik promises, pressing a hand over his heart.

Nicky stifles his giggle. “It’s ‘cross my heart’.”

“Cross my heart,” Erik repeats, winking. Nicky almost trips over his own feet. 

They make it outside, and Nicky holds his breath in his lungs, exhaling slowly. 

He’s really here. He made it. He actually made it. 

“It hasn’t gotten cooler yet, so it’s a little hot and sticky now,” Erik tells him. “But when the weather does get cooler, it’ll be really nice.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Nicky says, and he finds that he genuinely is. 

Erik loads the suitcases into the trunk of an old Volkswagen Passat while Nicky admires his muscles. 

“A word of warning -” Erik shuts the trunk - “I just got my license a few months ago and I’m still getting used to driving around on my own, so it might get a little bumpy.”

Nicky tries not to cringe. “Trust me - I’m in no position to judge. I failed my driving test twice.” 

He blames it on Andrew, whose driving is absolutely feral. Nicky really wants to know how _he_ got his license. 

Erik raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll try again after I get back,” Nicky continues. “Hopefully I’ll get my license before I graduate.” 

Maybe he’ll ask Mr. Josten to teach him, because apparently, he has been a blind bat and completely missed the cues that Andrew and Mr. Josten are a _thing_. It had cost him ten bucks and a whole bag of gummy worms. 

“You can drive my car here if you like,” Erik says, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “but don’t tell my parents I said that.”

Nicky smiles. He feels like that’s all he’s been doing. “Cross my heart.”

They get into the car and strap their seatbelts on. Erik starts the engine, a hand draped over the steering wheel. 

“Ready to see your home away from home?” he asks with a smile. The sunlight filtering in through the windshield makes his eyes glimmer like jade.

“Yeah,” Nicky says, staring directly into his eyes, “I’m ready.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I had started writing this right after I finished AWA last year, but true to character, I abandoned it halfway through…. then I rediscovered it a few days ago and decided to finish it and post it. It’s a little rough around the edges but I hope it isn’t too bad! It’s my first time writing something that’s Nicky-centric and I also have no clue how to write Erik lmao
> 
> Let me know what you think of the fic :'D
> 
> My [tumblr](http://nakasomethingkun.tumblr.com).


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